Cocaine and Strippers?

When this line, next to Cocaine,
came in this season at Frankenstein,
it already had a name.

My buddy Steve used to always say, "Strippers love cocaine, man. Its not their fault, they're just strippers!"

He would know, he moved to L.A. to live with one that he met on his credit card company's customer service line.

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Josh Hurst and I humped the whole kit up the hill, and got to work. The route looked beautiful, fatter than I had ever seen it, and I had taken that hike a few times before with my eye on this usually sunbaked and poorly formed, hanging tube. Guiding the previous week, I had seen what might be a good start to the main icicle, connecting blobs and smaller hangers coming in from the right. On closer inspection last Saturday morning it looked like the way to go.

Drilling away. Josh Hurst photo.

I headed up and drilled the first bolt, hanging off a good tool in an icy crack. Josh got in the next, off a bad cam, and I aided up a blade crack high enough to get in the third, to protect the transition onto the ice. Most of the day gone at that point, I headed up on the lead, firing the initial sequence of overhanging mixed climbing, feet on crumbly rock, and tools in little blobs of ice. The transition to the coveted column was so classy that afternoon. The sun had been just strong enough to soften up the surface, making for some great ice climbing.

Good mixed climbing down low. Josh Hurst photo.

The daylight dwindled as I tried to figure a way through the roof above, and we decided to come back in the morning and have a closer look.

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The next day we climbed up Cocaine and rappelled over the, soon-to-be, Strippers roof to check it out from above. Convinced of the proper path, and it's thuggishness, we headed for the ground to give it a go. I was feeling lousy and popped off down low a time or two, and just couldn't muster the mojo to really go for it up high where it counted; pulling the roof through one of its offerings, a small nut crack which turns into a slightly vegetated seam. I did get fired up though when Josh took over and sent the pitch on is first go of the day - it was impressive, the final roof suiting his style of climbing - extra burly pull-ups.

Josh Hurst about to fire the FA of Strippers.

I headed up next, and popped out of the roof. After lowering to a good ledge atop the ice I tried again, this time hanging on through the powerful sequence. Above the roof I was forced to remember what a good climber Josh is, as I performed the mandatory turf-shot-mantle, on bad feet, above a spooky fall.

Nice work Josh!

Check out more at Alpinist.com and NEice.com.

The Painted Wall Icicle, part II

The Painted Wall Icicle M9 NEI 5+,
in unusually fat condition. Peter Doucette following.

"I had this little feeling, and started back aiding away from the ice. Then I heard that noise, you know, that sound, and saw what I thought was a little chunk falling. But it was the whole second pitch," my friend Josh Hurst related to me after an unexpectedly sunny day at the south facing Painted Wall, trying for the second ascent of the cliff's now infamous icicle. "It was like getting passed by a tractor trailer!"

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Luckily, a couple of days before, the high clouds that had persistently been lingering over the White Mountains all weekend held their ground. A longer than usual ski out to the Painted Wall, due to some bridge work crossing the Swift River, worked me over. We had come loaded for bear, all the usual winter kit, plus extra tools and even a drill. But when we got there it was all forgotten. The ice looked amazing.

My phone had been ringing all weekend while I was out guiding, "Man, I saw a picture of your route on the web, you been on it yet?", "I drove past the Painted Wall, that icicle is huge!". Tuesday came, my first day off, and the posse had grown to four people, Doug Madara, Kevin Mahoney and Peter Doucette and me. We all trudged out there together.

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Some thin moves down low on the first pitch. Kevin Mahoney photo.

It all went really smooth. After a warm up hanging the draws, I got on the wall, breathed more than my usual share of O2, and fired the first pitch; this year grabbing soft ice well below where I had ever seen it before.

Approaching the ice on the first pitch. Kevin Mahoney photo.

Now, back at my previous highpoint, clipped to the bolted anchor on the ice ledge, I was back in a familiar position; confronted by the prospect of leading some really intimidating, steep-ass ice. This year though it was huge, the ice was soft and I had a three man cheer-leading crew. They tagged me up the necessary gear for the ice pitch above and Kevin followed the M9 pitch below, still learning the moves himself.

Peter Doucette photo.

Up I went. What a pitch of ice climbing that was, forced out early onto the front side of the icicle, there was nothing to do but plug away, way up and out over the Swift River valley. The ice was featured and the column, that just below dropped away into space, was bonded and solid.

Peter Doucette photo.

I topped out and everyone got a chance to follow, which was humorous to say the least; like a steep, cold, hard version of Thin Air on a busy summer Saturday.

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We had gotten unbelievably lucky with our timing, the next day the south facing cliff baked in the sun and the icicle fractured below the belay ledge. The following day, despite a forecast for clouds, the sun came out again catching Eric McCallister and Josh Hurst off guard. With Josh clipped to a bolt just feet away from the sixty foot, unsupported column that is the second pitch, he watched it just slipped away, and crash to the ground.

Check out more at Climbing.com, NEice.com and Alpinist.com.

Not Yet...

Looks like a slow start this ice season, but warm temps, some rain and a good amount of sun have been great for late season yard work. We'll just have to consider tonight's forecast, a blast of wind and 1-2 inches of rain, money in the bank. Its supposed to begin to cool down over the next few days - maybe even some snow over the weekend and early next week.

I'm beginning to hope for my early season favorite, a good old fashioned rainstorm and a cold snap - the formula for the best adventure around. We'll see if it gets cold enough to make Cannon go off, then I'll see if I can find my crampons. That first early morning mission to scrape around in the cold after scrambling all night to put together a full winter kit is priceless. All the annoyances are quickly forgotten at first light on a clear morning. Especially a first light that reveals long, thin drips of yellow, twisted Cannon ice where you had been debating there might be. It often reveals something that makes for a change of plan, sometimes even a change of venue.

I've admired Cannon's medieval, green masonry from random belays all over the cliff. Sometimes those long, cold belays were enough to make me promise to quit climbing and ponder getting a real job. But it never took much; a sip of tea, a look from a partner, or the sudden shift to an engaging lead to straighten out those misguided thoughts. Each December unknown drips, torquing picks, turf shots, pitons, bright cold moons and pitch black drives across the Kanc reenergize and refresh me. If its not this one, maybe the next storm.

What's Next?

There is a taste of winter on these cold, clear mornings, only to be erased by the 50 degree sun come afternoon. Its the perfect time for late season rock climbing; getting tucked away at a south facing crag and enjoying the relative quiet in the low, direct sun.


I can't remember a year when there hasn't been some good ice climbing in December, although it seems unimaginable right now, but a shift of just a few degrees and, boom - put away the chalk bag and find the v-thread tool.


Here's some shots to help get psyche up...

Cathedral Ledge

Snow for sloggin'

Toko Crag

The Laughing Lion

The second pitches and up.

The routes are from left to right:

Unamed 5.11c, FA Ray Rice, sport

Mane Line 5.11d, FA Bob Parrot, mixed gear, four pitches

Unamed 5.11d, FA Ray Rice, sport

Rainbow Route 5.11d, FA Bayard Russell, Maddog Drummond, Chris Bassett, mixed gear, three pitches

Unamed 5.11a, equiped by Bob Parrot, FA probably Bayard Russell, Freddie Wilkinson and Maddog Drummond, mixed gear

Acid Wall 5.12d/13a?, FA Bayard Russell, sport, three pitches

Unamed 5.12c, FA Bayard Russell, equiped by Dave Sharrat, mixed gear

Oracular Vulva aka Whiteboy 5.13a FA Dave Sharrat, equipped by Bayard Russell, sport

The Pitchfork 5.9 R, FA Ray Rice, trad

Far, Far Away 5.11c, FA Bayard Russell, sport

Lazy Boy 5.11a/12a, FA Ray Rice

The First Day of Summer

Summer is finally here. Wow, what a wet, nasty - well anyway way, no news there. The sun came out yesterday and I realized how much I missed the hot, humid, go-jump-in-the-river kind of summer day I normally spend July and August complaining about. Sweat hoggin', it burns the gunk out.

All the wetness has lingered around my forested home. I've been whacking back the underbrush and scraggly hemlocks that clog up the air, looking for some elbow room and some sunlight to dry up the dankness. I knew yesterday was different from the minute I pulled open my underwear drawer in the morning and its swollen wood didn't offer up a fight. The sun dried everything up in the yard, too.

All this coincides with the beginning of "Lion season". Its like big game hunting, but without the danger - all the bolts we placed make sure of that. At the height of land in Evan's Notch sits the four pitch Laughing Lion, on the eastern slope of East Royce Mountain. Due to a family of peregrine falcons the cliff stays closed through the spring and most of the summer.

This year they had successful mating season and we got up there before the usual August 1st cut off. And what a treat. At roughly 2000' it stays fairly cool, and with this south westerly flow a breeze snuck around the corner of the east facing cliff. A pitch off the ground and the overhanging wall was dry and the sharp edges felt crisp. The peregrines put on an ariel show including a tumbling fight over some carcass's thigh. They were repeatedly flying into a protected nook, forty feet from our belay, completely ignoring us, and pulling out animal parts, all the while screeching with their shrill call that proves to me they are the direct descendants of pterodactyls.

Ray had put up a new pitch up there that I hadn't had a chance to try - and it was a beautiful. Typical Laughing Lion technical, gently overhanging face climbing with all the requisite exposure and excellent friction. The mutlipitch cliff has really become a climbing area and I'm looking forward to sharing it this fall.

The Other Side of the Coin

Every time something happens around Cathedral, something major, like the recent retro-bolting of Thin Air and its subsequent chopping, I find myself climbing there more often. There is a need to look after the cliff, to see whose around and what's going on. I may solo Thin Air when I would normally go up Fun House, or just go cragging there when I might otherwise go work on my latest sport climbing project or new route. Events like this, while divisive on the local website, bring large parts of the community here closer together. Most of my good friends, whether 23 or 60, are people that I see at the cliff after work, on the weekends, on a Tuesday. They own the cars I recognize that are parked in front of the kiosk in the dirt. They are the people I spend my free time with, I will invite to my wedding and share a rope with, and for the most part we all have very similar opinions about what the future of style on Cathedral Ledge should be.


In an ideal world, I would love to see every retrobolt on Cathedral and Whitehorse removed, but I realize that's unreasonable. So we, the elitist locals (as we are often referred to on the local website), pick and choose our battles, and Thin Air is the obvious choice. Before I chopped four bolts on it in 2003 its sorry state was used as an excuse for retrobolting other routes, "Look at Thin Air, its got bolted cracks all over it, fuck it, North Conway doesn't have any ethics anymore". For almost six years the bolts stayed away, and with a lot of quiet support from the local community, making the point that this is a climbing area where you can actually learn to climb traditionally, practice the skills and then go to the mountains having a clue. It was an uncomfortable silence though, one which no one thought would actually last after the pendulum swung the other way for so long. Then, one day this spring, it was over. The bolts on the so called pedestal belay reappeared, and they reappeared in a manner more typical of a Ken Nicols style bolt chopping, quietly and without any ownership of the action.


It was a sad day for me when the anchor reappeared. In our little community of Cathedral climbers, those ones with the cars I recognize, the frustration built up quickly. No. There is simply too much pressure on the cliff from its proximity to Rumney. Convenience has become expected, people can't even be bothered to take their gear home with them at the end of a day. In this sport climbing world, all we are looking for is a little niche where protection skills are a part of climbing. A place in a state park in North Conway, NH where climbing is not just about gymnastics. What we are asking for is actually pretty reasonable, especially on the granite crags in the White Mountains, let the perogative of the first ascencionsit stand. Let that person choose how to establish the route and then let it be. If we're talking about a sport route, whatever, but on a granite route, established at least in part as a trad route, let it exist as such. The gear might be a bit sketchy, but so what, climbing doesn't have to be all about movement and safety. There are plenty, plenty of safe places to climb. Let the mental challenges of protection and its associated skills have a place to flourish. That is why New England climbers do so well in the mountains and in other climbing areas, we have a variety of climbing skills - variety is an asset.


I have drilled hundreds of bolts on new routes all over the White Mountains, I have chopped quite a few retrobolts too. In Britian they have a well known ethic concerning the gritstone, no bolts. That works for them, but they have tiny cliffs and need to perserve their adventure. Our cliffs are lot a bigger and we have a long history of using bolts. A history that no one, but maybe Henry Barber, has a contention with. With the exception of one unfortunate and isolated incident at Crack in the Woods, that, in hindsite, even the chopper admits wasn't a great idea, no one is talking about chopping other people's routes. Its not even on the table. The only problem anyone up here has with bolts is with the ones that appear on established climbs. Thats it, its simple. If the established routes are left alone, those of us who have chopped bolts in the past and would in the future, are happier to just go climbing.